The Lucky Cat Shop

by Debi Matlack

  Without lifting my head, I waved a dismissive gesture at his general location. “Yeah. Gimme a minute.” My stomach ultimately decided not to jump out and dance the Macarena in front of everybody and I sat back up. Three sets of eyes watched me with varying levels of concern, interest, and trepidation. I turned my attention back to Scott.

  “I think she may have gone back home to deal with it. Maybe she’s trying to get a divorce so she could come back to Mr…?”

  “Drummond,” he reminded me.

  “Drummond?” The refrigerator light in my head went on. I got up and tottered to the bulletin board. Buried under a garage sale notice and a tear-sheet from a math tutor was the marriage proposal from months ago. I pulled it free and took it to Scott, dropping gratefully back to my chair. “This Drummond?” I knew it was. The pretty blonde on the flyer was the same one I had seen when I held the engagement ring.

  “I’ll be damned…” He gave me another look. “You wouldn’t happen to know where home might be?”

  I sighed. This was never going to friggin’ end. “Bring me a map.”

  Within minutes an atlas from the cop car had been secured and laid open on the table in front of me. Mike brought me a silver chain from the jewelry display and I strung the ring on it. Now they stood around me, hovering, and I shook my head. “All of you, sit. You’re breathing my air.”

  They found their respective chairs but drew them closer. Now that there was actually something to see they didn’t want to miss the show. Mike cocked his head at the setup.

  “Now what’re you doing?”

  “It’s called dowsing or scrying.”

  “Like people do with wands to find water?” Well, well, well, Barrett actually asked an intelligent question without a hint of sarcasm. Will wonders never cease?

  “Very similar.” I really didn’t have the energy to elaborate.

  I leaned over the map and let the ring dangle from its chain over the multicolored roads and borders. After a few yes or no questions to establish the pendant’s responses, I asked it if she had gone east. Counterclockwise meant No. West? No. North? It began to swing clockwise, indicating yes. I moved over the map and once I got to the edge of the Florida map the pendulum stopped swinging as if it hit a wall.

  “Turn the page to Georgia.” Scott hurried to comply and the pendant started swinging again. I noticed Barrett staring at my hand, probably trying to see if I was making it swing the way I wanted it to. I made sure to keep everything rock-steady. I followed the clockwise motion north through the maps until we hit North Carolina. The ring stopped its rotation abruptly. I moved my hand with the chain and the diamond stayed rooted to the ‘e’ in Raleigh as if cemented to a marble pedestal, not dangling from a flimsy silver necklace. A glance at Barrett showed his wide eyes glued to this small defiance of physics as we know it. Suck it, unbeliever.

  “Start there.” I pulled the ring off the chain and handed it back to Scott, feeling only a little frisson this time. He stared at it and the map, then nodded decisively.

  “Thanks. It gives us someplace to start.”

  I took a deep breath, very tired. “How are you going to explain to your supervisor your sudden desire to check an out-of-jurisdiction lead in Raleigh, North Carolina?”

  “I’m not,” he replied with a grin. “I’m going to tell Joe Drummond and let him decide what to do.”

  “Fair enough. I hope it helps.”

  “It will. Just having a direction to look is more than we’ve gotten so far.”

  Scott nodded, then reached behind his chair for a messenger bag, looking first at me and then Mike. “I have some more information about your case. Do you want to see it now or later?”

  I was exhausted but I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. “Now, please.”

  Scott handed me an inventory list and a handful of photographs, items recovered from the crime scene at Poppy’s murder. “After you told me about the hammer in the hospital, I had them bag every one we could find in the store. I figured it wouldn’t be buried too deep in here since the perp wouldn’t have enough time, what with two victims lying on the floor.”

  I spread the photos out on the low table in front of me. Mike gave me a quizzical glance then leaned in to look. The items depicted in the photos were eighteen hammers of varying types. Claw hammers, mallets, even a light sledgehammer. “Nope, nope, nope. Wait.” There were two of the type I suspected had been used against us. One end of the head was a smooth flat surface, the other a rounded knob.

  “These.” I pushed the two pictures toward Scott.

  “Why these?”

  My mind flashed to the silhouette that still occasionally haunted my dreams. Late afternoon sunlight slanted in behind him, to obscure his features with a deep shadow, but it also delineated the contours of the object he held. “A ball peen hammer.” I was certain I was looking at the weapon used to kill Poppy. The scar on the back of my head throbbed, one-two-three, and I reached up to rub at it. “I’m willing to bet one of these two will match the dent in my skull.”

  “All of these were clean of prints, blood and hair.” His lips contorted into a frown of frustration.

  “Then what good are they to us now?” Mike complained.

  I ignored Mike’s whining, knowing the hammers could never be cleaned of what I could find on them. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but, is there any way I could see these two? And,” I took a deep breath to steady myself, “be able to touch them?”

  Scott cocked his head at me quizzically. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “No, Maeve. Absolutely not.”

  “Shut up, Mike.”

  “No!” He grabbed my arm and squeezed. I saw both Barrett and Scott stiffen, ready to react.

  “Ow, jerk, let go!” I yanked free of his clutching grasp and looked up to glare at him. There was genuine fear in his eyes. I huffed out a deep breath and suppressed a fading urge to chew him several new orifices in front of the others. But he was scared. Christ Almighty, I was too. Keeping my gaze on my brother, I shook my head, speaking to Scott.

  “No, I think it’s a terrible idea.” I knew it was far worse than a bad idea, it was a colossally horrible idea. “But I have to try.” Mike, pressed his lips together in disapproval, looking so much like Poppy that I almost smiled.

  Scott watched me for a long moment, then nodded decisively. “Let me see what I can do.” He patted my shoulder and gave Barrett a quick glance. “I’ll go wait in the car.” Mike followed him to lock the door before coming back to the corner to give Barrett a gimlet stare. Such a good, overprotective, pain in the ass big brother.

  I looked at Barrett too. His expression was neutral but open, without the skepticism he’d displayed at our last meeting. He met my eyes. This time there was a warmth in them that I’d missed last time. Maybe his mind had opened just the tiniest sliver.

  My dearest darling brother wasn’t so quick to take a hint. I was too tired to beat around the bush. “Mike.”

  “What?”

  “Good night.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, then looked at Barrett, his gaze sharpening in warning.

  “Mike!”

  “Okay, okay.” He bent down, kissed me on the forehead and went out through the storeroom. I waited until I heard the door click closed, locking automatically behind. Unbidden, a chuckle rose from my throat. Barrett made a wry face.

  “Is your brother always so… vigilant?”

  I shrugged. “He’s spent most of his life getting me out of one mess or another. I guess he still expects to need to do it.” I took another swig out of the soda and grimaced at how warm it was.

  Barrett dragged a chair closer. “Look, I’m really sorry about how I behaved last time. I was a jerk.”

  “No argument here.” I wasn’t going to open my arms wide on the basis of one evening’s good behavior.

  He sighed. “I wanted to apologize face to face. And I swear I thought Scott told you I was coming.”
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  “Well, he’s a sneaky bastard and someday I’ll get him for this.”

  His demeanor was suddenly reticent. “I read the book you gave me.”

  “And?”

  “And I looked Edgar Cayce up online. I still don’t know how he did it, or how you did this,” he gestured to indicate the general vicinity and recent events thereof, “but the fact remains that they did happen. Tonight I witnessed something I never would have thought was possible. It’s not so much what I saw as what I felt. It was real.” His eyes bored into mine and I felt their disconcerting intensity. “Thank you for allowing me to see it.”

  “Thank you for believing me.” I paused, one last shred of doubt making me ask, “You do believe me, right?”

  “Sure do.” No hesitation. “Something happened, I know that. I couldn’t see anything. But clearly you did. Something that worried you, but you were willing to keep looking until you found out what Scott needed to know.”

  Now I was absolutely sure he accepted what I did, what I was, as real, with all sincerity. He smiled, giving me the full devastating effect of those dimples and I felt the wall I’d built against him start to crumble. He stood and offered me his hands. I took them and got up, relying on his support more than I’d anticipated, moving slowly as a great weariness descended.

  He paused on our way to the door. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I wanted nothing so much as to be alone and digest the evening’s events over a glass or three of Moscato in my battleship of a bathtub, nearly as much as I wanted him to kiss me. Guess it didn’t take me long to reverse my opinion. “I’m fine.”

  We resumed our course to the door, now only leaning on him a little more than I might otherwise. He stopped, turned back to face me. “So, do you still think I’m an inflexible, close-minded jackass?”

  “Depends on if you still think I’m a crazy fraud.”

  “Well, I didn’t say you weren’t crazy…” His mouth quirked up at the corner and I gave his shoulder a smack.

  “Jerk.”

  “But you’re definitely not a fraud.” He bent down, hesitated for a second, then touched his lips to mine in a fleeting kiss and let me go. As the first quasi-romantic kiss I’d had in years, it was a good way to start.

  I leaned against the door frame, watching him as he turned the deadbolt to let himself out. “I guess you’re all right, then.”

  He chuckled. “Good. See you.” He nodded to the door. “Lock up.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “Don’t you ‘sir’ me, I work for a living.” With a parting smile, he slipped out the door and I complied with his request, fixing all the latches firmly. A car engine started and the cop lights on the dash rotated once as they passed the door. I waved, pulled down the blinds and dragged myself up the stairs. There was a lot to think about. I’d better get to it.

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, I went downstairs early to get started on a big hutch that I was sanding and refinishing. After a few hours of the noisy sander with my ears covered with giant hearing protectors, I straightened, arched my hands over my head to stretch my back and saw the light blinking on my phone on a nearby bench. Curious, I picked it up and listened to the voicemail.

  “Hi, it’s Barrett. I wanted to check in, see how you were feeling this morning. If you’re up to it, I know a great seafood place, right on the river. Unless of course you hate seafood or are allergic, in which case we can figure something else out. Anyway, give me a call and let me know. Bye.”

  I dropped the phone in my haste to call him back. It’s a good thing I have it in a case. As it rang, it hit a table leg before skittering across the concrete and under the desk, where I heard his voice, tinny with the echo, say “Hello?”

  I was still trying to crawl around the edge of the desk to reach the phone and banged my knee on the floor. “Shit!” I made a grab for it and it shot the width of the room to lodge behind another chair. “Fuck!” Belatedly, I remembered the store might have customers and clapped a filthy hand over my filthy mouth.

  “Maeve? You okay?” His voice was even more distant now.

  In desperation I called, “I swear I’m not this much of an idiot all the time. I dropped the phone in the storeroom and it’s running from me.”

  A chuckle led me around the end of a pile of table legs. “You’re rolling around on the floor?”

  “Sort of.” There were more pleasant ways to pass the time on the floor than pursuing an errant cell phone. Some of which I hoped to try with my new friend. Soon, very soon.

  Fingers closing over the phone at last, I sat on the floor and leaned back against the side of a cabinet. “Okay, I finally have the elusive little critter.”

  “Your phone or some other hapless critter?”

  My heart was finally slowing down. “The stupid phone. Now, back to business. What time is lunch in your world?”

  “Midday-ish, like most of the rest of the planet. How much time do you need to get ready?”

  “Depends on how fancy this place is we’re going.”

  “Jeans and a t-shirt?”

  I looked down at myself. I was a mess. “Ordinarily I’d say ten minutes, but considering the state I’m in, you better give me twenty.”

  The storeroom door opened and Anna peered in, saw me on the floor and crooked her head. “There she is,” she pointed and stood back to admit Barrett. He grinned and put away his phone.

  “Seriously? I’ve never known a female that could do that.”

  I shot Anna an exasperated glance while she smiled merrily and closed the door behind her.

  I disconnected my phone and slid it into my back pocket. “If it were fancier, I might need fifteen or twenty.” It helped that I wear little makeup, my hair does whatever it wants whether I mess with it or not and my wardrobe already consists of mostly jeans and t-shirts. Not that I don’t appreciate fashion and the accoutrements thereof, but I also have little patience and a short attention span. Like I said, I’m not a primper. “The jig’s up, you’ve caught me.”

  Barrett quirked a brow in mock surprise. “Caught you in what? Are you guilty of something?” He wore jeans, but they were new and pressed, fitting in all the right places whereas mine hung on me like a rag. His polo shirt was likewise neat and tidy, while my tank top was smudged and my skin bore a heavy coating of sawdust, as did my hair. I felt like such a schlub.

  “All the time,” I grinned. I gestured for him to precede me out the door toward the back stairs to my apartment.

  He paused by the door, touching the trim on a cabinet I’d recently finished. It was heavily carved and I had spent ages cleaning and rewaxing it, repairing little cracks, replacing or recreating missing medallions. “Despite what I said in my terminally stupid state, you do beautiful work. Did you go to art school?”

  I sighed. That was still a painful subject with me. “No, never got to it. I ran a little wild in high school and wasted my first few years out, so my grandfather told me if I wanted an education, it was up to me to get it, he was tired of throwing good money after bad on me and college.” ‘A little wild.’ Now there was the understatement of the century.

  “That seems harsh.” Of course, someone who was an educator for a living might feel that way. We continued out the back and up the stairs.

  “Not really. Poppy knew if he gave me a crutch I’d use it. Cutting me off made me take responsibility for myself. It worked.” I chuckled. “Eventually.”

  He smiled, showing me those dimples again. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

  I grinned, playing up the redneck Florida accent. “Well, we can ride out to the woods and shoot beer cans off of logs, or go to the park and stare at the old men what are staring at the young mothers with their kids, or—”

  “Okay, so maybe we’ll just start with a meal. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for next time.”

  We’d barely stepped out of the building, I was dirty and he was talking about next time. How cool was that? Now
if I just didn’t screw this up. I beckoned him into my back hall. “Come on. I know this is Pinehaven but I would rather not be seen in public with you all neat and me looking like this.”

  He scanned me up and down, reached forward and plucked a wood shaving out of my hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you look fine.”

  I seriously wanted to marry this guy.

  I tossed my phone onto the messy bed, stripped, showered and was hopping into my clothing in five minutes. Some moisturizer and mascara took care of my face and I decided to wear my Tree of Life pendant. Since I’d started on this journey of discovery, both of myself and the crazy things no one else could see, I’d adopted the Tree as a personal symbol. It was the perfect representation of balance, light and dark, substance and void, how everything touches everything else around it. Except that right this moment I was feeling decidedly out of balance. Suddenly the prospect of having a man in my life that wasn’t family was terrifying, inconvenient and thrilling. I wanted to get to know him, to make him a part of my world, and yet, there was that part of me that resented the ripples set in motion by the development of a personal life. If this went forward, I’d have to make time to see him, to do things with him, make room for him in my life. Didn’t I have enough crap to deal with? Hadn’t I had enough upheaval already? I don’t let people into my life easily or often.

  But the idea of not seeing it through, not finding out where this path was taking me, taking us, I corrected myself, was unacceptable. I knew I had to discover what there was to learn about Barrett Eberhardt and, allow him to learn about me.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  It turned out Herr Eberhardt wasn’t looking to rush into anything either. We shared meals, talked on the phone, emailed and Facebooked and became friends. Aside from my brother, he was the first man I had been around that I was able to truly relax and be myself with. We exchanged dirty jokes and shared a love of music and books, though his tastes and mine diverged somewhat. That led to some interesting discussions over what radio station we were going to listen to in the car and some teasing remarks about what was playing in the store when he came by.